May 5th would have been my dad’s 71st birthday. Instead, he’s been physically gone over 2 years. Mentally, it was many years before, having succumbed to early-onset Alzheimer’s. He didn’t really know who I was in the end, but I was there with him when he passed. That was a good thing, which the universe seemed to know.

For the past two years I have been at peace with my dad’s passing, but recently I have been wondering, “Do I remember my dad’s laugh? Or what made him laugh? How was his smile?”. The farther the anniversary, the more I fear I am forgetting. Which in context, is a very scary thing. And when I get scared, I get busy. Luckily, I have two young children so time to think is a luxury. I have put austerity measures into place.

Earlier this week, I got a call from the Alzheimer’s Association asking if I would volunteer for the 2012 Memory Walk. I had done the walk for the past 2 years, so it was not out of the blue, but I hadn’t even thought about the walk yet. Things that happen in October are lucky if they make my radar by September these days. Ultimately, it was fine. It was busy work, not thoughtful work necessarily. I assembled my team page, sent my emails, and posted my plea for support on Facebook. I can now ignore it for a bit (maybe till September?). The universe was winding me up a bit, throwing me the walk just after my dad’s birthday. Well played, Universe, but a soft blow.

Then the news today. A WAR on Alzheimer’s! New clinical trials that show some real potential. A commitment from our country to recognize this epidemic that will triple over the next few decades. Why was this news so important to me? My father had early-onset Alzheimer’s. My aunt is suffering the disease now. Alzheimer’s is in my genes. Literally. If what the research says is true, I may be carrying genes that would give me a 50% chance of having Alzheimer’s. Crap odds. Even if I don’t need the cure, my brother, sister, cousin, or my children might. Scary and hopeful at the same time, Universe is winding up for the punch here.

Then the punch.

A fellow blogger announces her new website: www.DeadDadsClub.com. It’s a beautiful site, a place to share stories about your dad, reading the stories of other members. It’s club with an initiation that makes hazing look like sandbox play. It’s a reminder to remember. If you can.

TKO.

Winner: Universe

Let me tell you about my dad. His smile was the same as my son’s. He laughed at silly stuff, unimportant things, and mostly himself. His laugh made other people laugh because of its genuine tenor and kind intention. It sounded young, like good days. The early days, the days before Alzheimer’s.

You can run, but you can’t hide from what you know in your heart you must do. I needed to think about my dad so that I would know that I do remember the important stuff, if not the details. While initially a little painful, it was ultimately a good match, one that I am glad I lost.